The Tint I cannot take — is best —
The Color too remote
That I could show it in Bazaar —
A Guinea at a sight —
The fine — impalpable Array —
That swaggers on the eye
Like Cleopatra’s Company —
Repeated — in the sky —
The Moments of Dominion
That happen on the Soul
And leave it with a Discontent
Too exquisite — to tell —
The eager look — on Landscapes —
As if they just repressed
Some Secret — that was pushing
Like Chariots — in the Vest —
The Pleading of the Summer —
That other Prank — of Snow —
That Cushions Mystery with Tulle,
For fear the Squirrels — know.
Their Graspless manners — mock us —
Until the Cheated Eye
Shuts arrogantly — in the Grave —
Another way — to see —
Emily Dickinson
People highly regard the color of distant origin. Firstly Red at Sunset, Secondly red colors in faraway countries such Tyre purple, Brazilian red or Mexican cochineal. But she told dishonest farmers secretly harvest fake dyes. They could cheat the dead’s eye in fake purple interior of the coffin.
The Tint I cannot reach is best —
The Color is too distant
That I could show it in Fair —
A Guinea could be charged for a Glance—
The fine and untouchable Glory
That shows off to the viewer
Like Cleopatra’s group —
Is repeated in the sky —
The Moments of Glory
That move and leave
The Soul with a sigh
Is too exquisite to tell ―
The eager expression on Landscapes
As if they just hided
Some Secret that was going
To the West like a Coach―
The Summer seriously requested
That other Trick of Snow
That Softens Secret with Gauze,
Lest the Squirrels notice.
Their unthinkable ways tease us
Until the Cheated Eye
Shuts proudly in the Grave
To see Another way—
